


XII & XIII

by theladyscribe



Category: Hockey RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: If you found this on its own, you need to readThirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbirdfirst.





	XII & XIII

**Author's Note:**

> If you found this on its own, you need to read [Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12687183) first.

XII  
The river is moving.  
The blackbird must be flying.

Five years into his tenure in Ottawa, Zhenya wakes from his dream with a start. He checks his alarm and sighs; it's not due to go off for another thirty minutes. There's no hope he'll get back to sleep before then, so he turns it off and climbs out of bed, shaking off the last of the dream as he puts his feet in his slippers.

He stumbles into the kitchen of his apartment to find that his box of muesli is empty. He bought it two days ago and has only had one bowl from it. He hears a noise coming from the dining room, like the scrape of a spoon on china. Zhenya pulls the butcher knife from the block and creeps quietly toward the doorway.

Sidney looks up from where he is scooping the last of the muesli onto his spoon.

"Hey, Geno," he says, a small smile on his face, "it's been a while."

Zhenya sits down heavily, dropping the butcher knife on the table. "A while? It's seven years, Sid."

Sidney chews his mouthful of cereal and shrugs, as calm as ever. "I had to be sure it was safe."

Zhenya frowns. "All this time I think, what if you don't make it out? What if they follow me, find you in South Side, know I don't — I don't —"

Even now, he can't say it.

"Every day, I think today is day they find you, and they kill me in car crash or with heart attack, but it's never happen. Every day, it's same nightmares, something goes wrong, you die." He swallows back the familiar fears. "And now here you are, and you're real."

"I am," Sidney agrees.

*

XIII  
It was evening all afternoon.  
It was snowing  
And it was going to snow.  
The blackbird sat  
In the cedar-limbs.

Zhenya takes Sidney to the lookout above the lake. It's been a beautiful summer day, the sun bright and warm. They have a picnic on the bench, and Sidney tells Zhenya a terrible joke he learned from his handler.

When the sun begins to set, Sidney fastidiously packs up their trash, and Zhenya gets his gun from the trunk of the car. Sidney turns to him, smiling, though there is a hint of worry in the tightness around his eyes.

"Ready?" Sidney asks.

Zhenya swallows and pulls him in for a final kiss, harsh and full of longing. "Ready," he answers.

He walks to the edge of the cliff and drops his gun in the water.

It is fully dark as Zhenya drives away from the lookout. He calls Gennadyevich and says, "It's done."

When he parks the car in South Side, Zhenya glances at Sidney and says, "Thirty minutes."

Sidney nods once and presses his hand over his heart. Zhenya grabs his wrist and kisses the back of his hand, not daring to linger. He can't afford to waste any time; his flight is waiting.

He gets out of the car and doesn't look back.


End file.
